


Tax Breaks and Exploding Unicorns

by sara_holmes



Series: Puzzle Pieces [4]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Background Relationships, Clint Barton/Bucky Barnes - Freeform, Counterpart Verse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Humor, Love, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Parent Steve Rogers, Parent Tony Stark, Parent-Child Relationship, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-28
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2018-04-06 16:41:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4229199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sara_holmes/pseuds/sara_holmes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arto watches the news, and demands to know why Steve and Tony aren't married if they're allowed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tax Breaks and Exploding Unicorns

**Author's Note:**

> [shellsxo](http://shellsxo.tumblr.com/) left me an ask about Clint and Bucky getting married in Counterpart Verse to celebrate the ruling of the Supreme Court, and then I got chatting to Liz and this happened. Sorry, not sorry.
> 
> Consider this my little congratulations to America for the ruling. Hope you like it!

It starts with Arto watching the news, eyes bright and mouth hanging open, spoon of Lucky Charms suspended in front of his face.

“Why are there rainbows all over TV?”

“Unicorn explosion in Central Park,” Clint says through a mouthful of bagel. Bucky elbows him, and Clint makes an indignant sound, elbowing him back.

And Arto might be older and hell of a lot smarter, but his confused _‘you’re lying to me, I know it’_ expression is exactly the same on his ten year old face as it was when he was six.

“Unicorns don’t explode,” he says.

“They do if you shoot them with-” Bucky starts.

“It’s a pride thing,” Steve hastily intervenes.

“What’s a pride thing?” Arto asks, lowering his cereal. He looks up at Steve expectantly, fishing a marshmallow piece out of his bowl and popping it into his mouth.

“Oh, well,” Steve begins, because Arto knows the ins and outs of what it’s like to be gay in the United States - an inevitability considering the medley of sexualities within the tower where he’s grown up. “It’s about gay marriage.” He waves a hand at the TV. “This is because the Supreme Court passed a law saying that gay people are allowed to get married anywhere in the country.”

Arto looks startled. “You and Tony weren’t allowed to get married?”

Steve glances at Clint, who looks very much like he wants to laugh. Already. “Well, it depended on where you lived,” he says. “But now anyone anywhere in the states can get married.”

“Oh,” Arto says, and he turns his face back towards the TV. He doesn’t say anything more, but he’s looking thoughtful and very, very intrigued. It sets off alarm bells in Steve’s mind because Arto hasn’t brought up the idea of him and Tony being married in years but now he’s watching the celebrations and it’s obvious to everyone in the room that the cogs are turning.

Across the counter, Bucky and Clint exchange a knowing glance, Bucky’s mouth curling in a smirk. All in all, Steve’s not sure who he needs to be more worried about, the Barnes and Barton team or Arto.

And yes, he’s absolutely thrilled with the Supreme Court ruling; he’s so happy that equality isn’t being shoved to the side, that it’s being addressed and tackled properly. It means so much to so many people, and it’s about damn time-

But that doesn’t mean that he’s going to get married. Unofficial poster-boy for gay fathers around the country, he knows there might be some expectation that he take advantage of the ruling. But he and Tony have never wanted to get married, have vehemently backed away from the suggestion of marriage.

It’s personal choice. And he’s choosing to exercise his right of personal choice by not marrying Tony, and he’s got no intention of changing his mind.

None at all.

* * *

 

“I think you two should get married.”

And it’s two days later and it’s the ass end of the morning and their bedroom door is being thrown open, crashing against the wall behind it. Steve and Tony both scramble upright, and then when Arto walks in and jumps up onto the bed they fall back with matching groans.

“Arto. I love you. Go away,” Tony groans, burying his face in the pillow. “First day off in weeks. No killer robots to fight. Sleeping.”

“I think you should get married,” Arto repeats, and he walks up the bed so he’s standing by Steve’s hip, bouncing his knees and making the mattress dip with each bob.

“What?” Steve asks tiredly. “No, Arto.”

“But you can,” Arto says like it’s obvious, pressing a foot to Steve’s hip through the sheets and pushing at him, trying to make him roll onto his back.

“We could anyway, we live in New York,”  Tony mumbles into his pillow. “We’re not getting married, Art.”

“But-”

“Look," Steve says, and he reaches out and snags Arto’s ankle, pulling him forwards. Arto tumbles over with a yelp, protesting as Steve wraps him up in strong arms, blowing a  raspberry against his neck.

“Steve!” he laughs, squirming and trying to get free. Tony pulls his pillow over his head, rolling onto his front and apparently trusting Steve to safely defuse this one.

Grinning, Steve loosens his hold a little, arm still hooked around Arto’s neck. Arto shifts so he’s lying on his back, head resting on Steve’s bicep. “Where’s this marriage thing come from, huh? The news?”

Arto shrugs. “Think you should.”

And Steve knows he’s not going to get much more out of him, no matter how well his language skills are getting on.

“Well, you know not everyone wants to get married, Art,” he says. “Lots of couples don’t. Straight couples and gay couples. You know what we say, just because you can do something doesn't mean you should.”

“Think you should,” Arto repeats, mouth turning down sullenly.

Tony appears from under the pillow, rumpled and tired. “No sulking in the bed. You know the rule.”

Arto sighs and rolls over, burying his face into the back of Tony’s shoulder. Tony raises his eyebrows at Steve who just shrugs and settles back down.

“You wanna stay here for a bit, Art?” Tony asks. There’s a beat and then Arto nods, still not lifting his face.

“Alright,” Tony says, sending Steve a rueful smile. “No more making out for us, Steve.”

“You’re gross,” Arto mutters. “And you were sleeping anyway.”

“You got me there,” Tony sighs, eyes already closed. “You wake me up, you suffer, brat.”

“Okay,” Arto mumbles. Steve leans forwards and presses a kiss to the top of Arto’s head, then reaches forwards to settle his hand on Tony’s hip, Arto wedged between the both of them.

* * *

 

And Arto is having a bad day all around, and he started the day being restrained by Bucky and he’s ending the day being restrained by Tony and he’s been sent home from school for swearing again, and he’s not listening to reason-

“And you’re full of shit, you’re going to leave Steve and me-”

“I swear to god Arto, knock it off,” Tony snaps, armor pinning wayward limbs in place. “You can go a month without pulling this shit and I will take Steve down the goddamn aisle.”

And Arto burst into tears and slowly they unpick that it’s the old fear of being left that’s raising its ugly head, and he’s somehow taken Steve and Tony’s disinterest in getting married as a sign that one of them will cut and leave.

And Steve gets home and wraps Arto up in his arms, and when he’s too exhausted to fight Tony explains to him that they will never be leaving him not ever, and Arto nods and clings to them both like he’s six years old all over again.

* * *

 

And Arto is being so well-behaved it’s painful. He’s being kind to everyone and trying his hardest to keep his temper in check. He’s picking up his clothes and not leaving toys strewn over the tower, and he even fetches Tony coffee and doesn't even get snippy when Steve gives him a talking to for using the coffee maker without supervision.

It’s only when he says “three weeks to go,” to Tony, excitable and eager, that the penny drops.

“Three weeks to what?” Steve asks, perplexed and wary.

Tony blinks, and then he presses his hands to his face, heels of his palms against his eyes. “I may have said something dumb.”

“What?” Steve asks. “What? Tony, _what did you do?_ ”

****  
  


* * *

 

“Okay, team. Emergency. I may have accidentally made a deal with Arto that if he can go a month without being restrained then me and Steve will get married.”

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose as eight faces simultaneously turn to look at them, ranging from unimpressed to amused.

“You fucking idiot,” Bucky is the first to speak. “Is that why he’s being so nice? It was starting to creep me out.”

“Tony,” Pepper begins, despairing.

“Man, that seems a little unfair,” Sam frowns, and Steve sighs because he knows this. “Lot of pressure for the kid. If he doesn’t make it he’s going to be heartbroken.”

“He asked me if it was possible to get two people married without their permission,” Natasha chips in.

“I hope you told him no,” Tony says.

“Kid just wants his dads together,” Sam says unapologetically.

“We are together,” Steve interjects, feeling a little defensive because it’s been like six months since he and Tony had a major argument-

“Attachment disorder, craves a sense of permanence,” Bruce says, and Tony sits down next to Pepper, slumping forwards over the table knocking his head against the wood.

“We are not getting married,” Steve says, though he has a strange feeling that no-one is listening to him, everyone just shrugging and nodding or patting his elbow. “We’re not.”

“Course you’re not,” Bucky says, deadpan. “You’ve been together six years, have a kid, live together and are very much disgustingly in love. Why on earth would anyone assume you’re going to get married.”

And Steve gapes at Bucky for a moment before settling on “shut up, Bucky,” scowling down at the table and wishing everyone would just drop it.

* * *

 

And Tony steps up behind Steve as they’re getting ready for bed, hands slipping onto his bare skin above the waistband of his boxers, thumbs stroking along his hipbones.

“Hey.”

Steve straightens up, turns in Tony’s arms and accepts the kiss, warm and welcome. “Hey.”

“You don’t want to get married, do you?”

“No,” Steve says truthfully. “Why, do you?”

“No,” Tony says, sounding thoughtful. “Never felt like we needed to define anything, right?”

“Nope,” Steve agrees, pulls Tony close so they’re pressed together. “But Bruce has a point. Arto likes everything being defined.”

“Well, Arto doesn't get everything that he wants,” Tony says. “He’s spoilt enough as it is.”

“You made the deal,” Steve reminds him. “This is your fault.”

Tony kisses him to shut him up. The conversation isn’t over, but for now it works.

* * *

 

And Arto makes it three weeks and two days.

And then he can’t do his maths homework and he loses it. The homework gets ripped. The textbooks go sailing across the room. His desk is another casualty in the incident, drawers ripped free and bent and twisted out of shape. Steve is the first one there and steps in before Art’s laptop meets an untimely end.

“It’s stupid, it’s fucking stupid,” Arto howls, swinging at Steve in his frustration. Steve doesn’t say anything, just holds him tight and lets him work it out.

Arto stops shouting, going limp in Steve’s arms. He draws in a shuddering breath, and then Steve hears a small “oh no,” and then he starts to cry.

Arto is so distressed with the fact he didn’t make the month, so angry at himself for letting Steve and Tony down, that Steve has to hand over to Bucky and Clint. He goes to find Tony in the workshop. Tony looks up with a smile as he steps in, but it fades in the wake of Steve’s expression.

Steve just shakes his head.

“Oh, hell,” Tony says, forlorn and relieved and guilty all at once. “Well. At least we don’t have to be dragged down the aisle now, right?”

And Steve nods mutely, because he’d rather do a thousand things he doesn’t want to do than make Arto unhappy, and for whatever reasons Arto had just been so sold on the idea.

And now he’s heartbroken, sitting with Bucky and Clint and sobbing because he now thinks it’s his fault that his dads aren’t getting married, thinking that he’s the one that’s messed something up.

Steve just hopes he can get him to understand that it’s not his fault. It’s quite clearly Tony’s for making that dumb deal in the first place, but he doesn’t think saying that out will help. The last thing Art needs now is for Tony and Steve to start fighting over whose fault it is.

“We’ll fix it,” Tony says, getting up and walking over. “I fix things, that’s what I do.”

Steve nods and lets Tony pull him close.

* * *

 

And it’s a few weeks later, and the whole getting married thing seems to have been forgotten. Mostly. There are still moments where Arto goes quiet and subdued and looks like he’s a million miles away. Steve can directly connect some of his moments to seeing stories about gay rights on the news, but the rest are born from his own thoughts and Steve can’t work them out.

They attend the annual Stark charity gala side by side and hand in hand. Arto stays home with Bucky and Nat, kisses them both goodbye and tells them he’ll look for them on the TV.

Steve walks up the red carpet, mindful of the cameras around them, smiling and waving for the one viewer he gives a damn about. Fingers curl around his as Tony talks to someone at his side, and in that moment Steve wonders how it would actually feel if there were to be a band of gold slotted on one of the fingers that are threaded through his.

* * *

 

“Tax breaks.”

It comes out of the blue over the comms during a battle against the latest round of aliens bent on world domination. They’re tall and grey-skinned and angry, and they’re wearing pretty solid battle armor which is proving to be a pain in the ass.

“What?” Steve asks, slinging the shield and leaping to catch it on the rebound. “Tony?”

“Next of kin status,” Tony adds. “Legal right to dictate medical care if one of us is hurt.”

And the penny drops. “Really!?” he shouts. “You’re saying this _now?_ ”

He hears the whine of repulsors and Tony streaks past, scattering aliens like bowling pins. “Food for thought,” he says, and then he turns, blasting off into the sky.

* * *

 

Panting, Steve rolls off of Tony onto his back, throwing an arm up above his head. Tony groans something unintelligible into the sheets, still shivering through aftershocks.

“You’d have legal rights as Arto’s stepfather,” he says, chest heaving as he catches his breath.

Tony’s head snaps up, looking at him incredulously. “You’re thinking about this _now?_ ” he demands. “I’m fucking insulted-”

“Shut up,” Steve says, and pulls Tony over and ontop of him, sliding hands up his sweat-drenched spine and kissing the rest of the words from his lungs.

* * *

 

And it’s breakfast time on the communal floor, and the kitchen is chaos. People are dipping in and out, snagging coffee and stealing bites of bagels, and there is a row over who has taken the last of the pineapple juice, and Pepper is running late for some reason to do with Tony, and Clint and Bucky are arguing about paperwork, and it’s a Friday so they should be taking Arto to school-

“Bye Steve,” Arto yells, bounding towards the elevator. “Bye Tony.”

“Hey, hey hugs first, brat, you know the deal,” Tony calls back over his coffee and Arto runs over and scrambles up to hug him tight.

“You be safe,” Tony says.

“I will,” Arto says dismissively, and then, “Oh! I got something for you.”

He scrambles down and pulls his backpack off to rifle through it. He comes up with what looks like a letter in an envelope, ink-smudged and crumpled.

“Is this from school?” Tony asks in alarm. “What did you do-”

“No,” Arto insists, holding the letter against his chest. “I wrote it.”

“You wrote a letter?” Steve asks, curious. “To who?”

“To you,” Arto says. “But you’re not allowed to read it in front of anyone. But Tony. It’s for both of you. Because you’re both my dads. But not anyone else.”

“Okay we got it,” Tony says, holding his hand out. “Private and confidential.”

“Promise,” Arto says adamantly.

“We promise,” Steve says.

Arto eyes them suspiciously. “Go to your bedroom and read it.”

“We won’t let anyone else read it, we swear,” Tony says. “Now go before you’re late and Logan tells you off.”

Arto immediately holds the letter out for Tony to take. He hugs Tony again and scrambles up to hug and kiss Steve, and then he’s dragging Clint towards the elevator with Bucky wandering behind, still berating Clint about the paperwork.

Natasha watches them go and then turns on her chair, leaning her elbows on the counter and looking at them expectantly. Likewise, Sam makes no attempt to move.  Thor steps away, but when it becomes apparent that no-one else has any intention of maintaining privacy, he shrugs and sits back down.

Steve and Tony glance at each other, and then Steve makes a go-ahead gesture at Tony. He rips into the envelope and shakes out the letter. He stares at it a moment, brows furrowed and then his expression goes soft.

“Steve,” he says quietly, and he lifts his head with eyes too bright and a rueful smile on his mouth. He hands over the letter without another word. It has the Avengers tower address at the top in a familiar messy scrawl, and says _"to Steve and Tony"_ right at the very top.

It starts with an apology. An apology for not being able to go a month being safe. An apology for bugging them about getting married. It’s long and rambling and a few words are misspelt and then painstakingly corrected.

And then at the bottom it simply says _‘if you get married you stay together forever and i think you should because you love each other.’_

There’s a PS at the bottom. A hastily added scribble _‘and you can be role models for the world’_ and that compounds Steve’s belief that there’s been some adult intervention or assistance here. He suspects Clint.

“You boys okay?”

Heart twisting unhappily inside his chest, Steve hands the letter over to her without a word. Finds Tony’s hand and squeezes it. Sam and Thor lean in either side of her to read.

“Well. That’s one to tug on the heartstrings,” Sam says when he’s finished. “You have got yourself in a good mess here, guys.”

“I blame Clint,” Steve says, throat feeling tight.

“He just helped him get his thoughts in order,” Natasha says. “Arto wanted to write it. He knows he struggles verbally, and he was scared of getting it wrong.”

“You knew?” Tony asks, and Natasha nods.

“You two need to talk,” Thor says, serious. “Alone.”

Steve nods mutely. Natasha sighs. “Jarvis, enable the 'Steve and Tony need to talk about something so don't let anyone storm out' protocol,” she says as she stands up, setting the letter down and then pulling Sam and Thor with her. She links her arms through theirs and steers them towards the elevators. “Come on, let’s go buy overpriced coffee away from these two idiots.”

“I object to that,” Tony shouts after her, but they’re already gone.

“I think we are idiots,” Steve says. “Well, you are an idiot, for telling Arto we’d get married if he stayed good.”

Tony opens his mouth but nothing comes out. He slumps, defeated.

“I messed up, huh?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, and holds out a hand. Tony gets up and steps up between Steve’s knees, holding Steve’s head to his chest with fingers laced together and cupping the back of his head. They stand there for a long moment, and then Steve gently pushes him back so he can look up, propping his chin on Tony’s chest. The light from the arc reactor is a comforting wash over his face.

“So. What were you saying about tax breaks?”

“Married people get them,” Tony says. “What were you saying about step-parent rights?”

“You’d have them,” Steve says. His hands slide over the small of Tony’s back, slipping under his shirt and feeling the warmth of his skin.

“Kid’s got a point about us being role models,” Tony says.

“None of that really matters though, does it?” Steve says. “There’s only really one reason to get married.”

“Don’t need rings or pieces of paper or extra legal rights to prove I love you,” Tony says with a frown.

“Me neither,” Steve says simply. “But. I do love you. And if putting a ring on your finger and signing a piece of paper takes away even one second of doubt you might have, well then.”

“Steve Rogers, are you asking me to marry you?”

“Not exactly,” Steve says, looking up at him. “Not sure my ego can handle you saying no.”

Tony hums at that, and then he blinks and his mouth opens in delight. “Steve,” he half whispers, eyes dancing. “After the wedding. Honeymoon. Alone. _Honeymoon sex._ ”

Steve blinks right back. “Marry me?”

“Oh, hell yes,” Tony says, and Steve surges out of his seat to kiss him, one hand on Tony’s hip and the other on the back of his head. Tony is laughing and Steve is laughing too and he doesn’t care, because it’s taken them years and years to get here and they didn’t ever need to get here but it feels -

\- it feels fucking amazing,

“I love you,” Steve says, pushing Tony back towards the couches. Tony doesn’t protest, and lets Steve keeping pushing him back until the backs of his calves hit the side and he’s sent sprawling back over the arm, Steve following him and kissing him frantically. “You know that?”

“Yep,” Tony says, pulling at the bottom of Steve’s shirt and stripping it up over his head, leaving his hair ruffled. “Doing it for taxes and legal rights and the kid and mostly because I love you.”

Steve grins and kisses him hard enough to steal his breath, happy and glowing. Tony kisses back, letting Steve wrestle his shirt off, kicking off his shoes and clearly not caring where they land.

“Arto is going to go crazy,” Tony says breathlessly. “He’s going to be smug about this forever-”

“Rather him smug than sad,” Steve says, hands already at Tony’s belt. “He’ll be happy.”

“He’ll have to adjust his damn family tree. More colors required.”

“He’ll be happy,” Steve reiterates. “Now can we please get to the celebrating our engagement sex?”

And Tony grins back, bright and uncomplicated. “Sir, yes, Sir.”

 

* * *

 

“Hey, home for lunch, not going back in this - _whoa!_ ”

Clint’s strangled yell yanks Steve and Tony from sleep. Steve’s on his feet before he knows it, and then he realizes he’s naked and makes a hasty grab for a cushion. Luckily, Bucky has his hands clapped over Arto’s eyes, though Arto is protesting and trying to shove them away.

“Jesus, _fuck_ , you two!” Clint shouts, slapping his own palms over his eyes. Bucky doesn't even bother, just lifts a bored eyebrow at Steve.

“What, what’s happening?” Arto asks, sounding panicked.

“Nothing,” Tony says, scrambling for his underwear. Steve grabs his own, dropping the cushion and pulling them on, feeling his face flame red with mortification. Oh god, he only closed his eyes for a moment-

“Is someone hurt? Is Steve and Tony fighting?” Arto asks, still wrestling with Bucky’s hands, trying to stamp on his feet to get away.

“Yeah, they’ve been - _fighting,_ ” Bucky says, voice shaking as he tries not to laugh, eyeing the disarray around the room. The scattered couch cushions and slightly broken coffee table from the first round. The broken plate, split juice and knocked over bar-stools from the second round over by the counter.

“We have not,” Steve starts, just as Arto manages to twist free. Steve goes still, shirt in hand. Behind him, Tony carried on pulling his jeans on, looking only slightly ruffled.

“We were napping,” he says, sounding defensive. “We were just-”

“Gro-sss,” Arto whines, screwing up his face in disgust and flapping his hands in front of him in protest. “You were having _sex._ ”

Steve chokes on a mouthful of nothing. Behind him, Tony makes a strangled sound. “Wait, what?”

Clint looks down on him, shushing him frantically. “Shut up, Art! You don’t know about sex, remember!”

“Do too,” Arto retorts. “You said it’s naked time for grown ups who love each other, and they love each other and I _know_ they have sex.”

Steve wishes that he had a portal chamber handy so he could escape from this moment into a dimension where his ten year old son isn’t berating him for having sex on the couch. Tony splutters. “Excuse you?”

Arto looks at him through narrowed eyes. “You two have sex all the time. You're not very good at pretending you don't. And you make loads of noise-"

“Whoa, whoa, that’s enough!” Tony says, finally sounding as mortified as Steve feels. “Jesus, Art!”

Bucky is laughing so hard he’s crying. He has his hands braced on his knees, leaning forwards as he laughs and laughs. Clint throws his hands up in the air, despairing at Arto.

“Drop me in it, why don’t you,” he says, and then turns to Steve and Tony. “And you know the rule! No violating communal areas!”

“We were celebrating,” Tony says as he finds his shirt and tugs it back on. Steve grimaces and does his belt up, ignoring Bucky’s suggestive leer.

“Celebrating what?”

“Being engaged,” Tony says, and Bucky promptly stops laughing. He looks from Clint to Steve, bewildered.  

“You fucking what?”

“What does that mean?” Arto demands, grabbing Clint’s shirt and pulling at it. “Clint!”

Clint stares at Bucky and then looks to Steve and Tony. “Means they’re getting married,” he says, sounding utterly bemused.

Arto’s mouth drops open. He looks to Steve and Tony. “You are?”

Steve can’t help but smile at the growing shock and delight on Arto’s face. “Yeah,” he says. “We’re together forever, so we probably should.”

And Arto shrieks, pelting across the floor and towards Steve. Steve scoops him up and hugs him tight, and Arto is so excited he’s wriggling and kicking, and then Tony is on the other side of him, sandwiching him in a hug and pressing noisy kisses to Arto’s cheek. Arto laughs, breathless and pink cheeked and thrilled.

“My letter,” he crows. “You read it.”

And Steve smiles at Tony over Arto’s shoulder. Tony smiles back.

“Yeah, kid. We did.”

 

* * *

 

And it’s a month later, and they get hitched on the roof of Avengers tower under the blue skies and warmth of July sunshine, friends and family surrounding them. There’s a news chopper thudding overhead - uninvited - but Steve can’t bring himself to care.

He cares about Bucky standing at his side and cracking jokes, winking at Clint who’s wearing a flower crown and carrying a purple bouquet of flowers. He cares that Natasha is handing matching flower crowns to the rest of the Avengers, all standing around with beaming smiles and shit-eating grins firmly in place.

He cares that Arto is bounding up, rings clutched in his hand. He’s wearing a suit and tie with purple converse on his feet, excitable and chirping unstoppably.

He cares that Tony is sauntering up between Rhodey and Pepper, taking his sunglasses off and leaning in to kiss Steve before the ceremony has even started. Thor is cheering in the background, Mjolnir raised in a triumphant salute.

He cares that Tony looks him right in the eye when he tells him that he loves him, and that’s the first and last thought he ever has, underneath everything else that goes on in his brain. Steve says it right back, and falls in love all over again at the way Tony grins, fully trusting in the honestly inadequate words he manages to get out as part of his vows.

Arto clamours to be picked up, even though he’s ten and too big. They’re pronounced superhero and superhero and then husband and husband, and Steve leans over to kiss Tony’s smile with his son balanced on his hip and the rest of his family cheering a storm in the background. The breeze tugs gently at his hair and suit, approving.

The rest of the night is a blur. Thor cracks open a barrel of Asgard’s finest, and Clint happily partakes. Clint then spends the rest of the night leaning against Bucky’s side and holding onto his metal hand with both of his own, grinning like an idiot. Bucky tolerates it remarkably well, arm slung over Clint’s shoulders and pressing his mouth to Clint’s forehead when he thinks nobody's looking.

The dancefloor is occupied for most of the night, primarily by Natasha, Pepper and Sue, jaw-droppingly gorgeous as they twirl each other around and take turns to lead. Sam crashes their group when he’s also buzzed enough from the mead, and leads Natasha in a killer tango that has the rest of the crowd whooping and hollering. Thor and Jane join them for time to time, Thor beaming at Jane like she hung the sun, moon and stars.

In a less exuberant but no less happy corner of the party, Bruce and Lilya sit to the side, talking quietly and smiling happily as they share a bottle of wine. Later in the evening, Reed joins their conversation and soon it’s an excitable debate, hands flying and voices and laughter increasing in volume.

Fury, Coulson and Hill drop by. Maria bizarrely spends most of her time chatting to Johnny Storm as Coulson and Fury mingle. Fury actually looks relaxed, offering congratulations alongside a request to not let Arto into his office anymore please, I’ve told you about this Stark, the handprints are no longer amusing.

Arto himself tears about, bouncing from person to person in a whirlwind of exuberant delight and adrenaline. He upsets Franklin but is on best behavior towards Valeria, who has little to no time for the rowdy boys anyway. Logan drops off Omari for an hour and he and Arto spend the time darting from hiding place to hiding place, whispering conspiratorially to each other, Omari’s scales glinting in the setting summer sun.

Arto breaks two of the standing lights, knocks Clint over on more than one occasion, then eats too much cake and ends the night in spectacular style, throwing up all over Steve’s feet. He remains adamant that he’s okay, but he doesn't actually complain when Steve scoops him up ten minutes after and takes him to his floor to sleep.

“Tony,” he murmurs, rubbing his face with his hand. The noise from the party isn’t audible from here, and Arto’s room is quiet and peaceful, the only light coming from the small glowing arc-reactor light on his bedside table.

“Right behind you,” Tony says, walking behind them as Steve helps Arto disentangle himself from his tie and suit. He leaves them strewn over the carpet, converse kicked off and hitting the wall with dull thuds.

“This is the best day ever,”  Arto announces as he crawls into his bed. “You got married.”

“We did,” Tony says and leans forwards to kiss his forehead. “You gonna stop bugging us now?”

Arto nods sleepily and Tony laughs. “See you in the morning, Smart Art.”

“Night,” Arto mumbles, and turns his face up so Steve can kiss his forehead too. “Steve?”

“Mmhm?”

“You think Bucky and Clint will ever get married?”

Steve’s mouth twitches and he looks at Tony for a moment. Tony lifts his eyebrows and bites back a mischievous grin, nodding encouragingly at Steve. Steve snorts with laughter before turning back to Arto.

“I don't know,” he says, running his hand over Arto’s head, unfamiliar flash of gold still strange and thrilling on his finger. “Why don’t you ask them in the morning?”

“Okay,” Arto yawns, and then he’s drifting off right then and there, a small smile on his face as he sleeps, happy and content.


End file.
